


Overwatch High School: During the Crisis

by Scarlet_Streak



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Absent Parents, Additional Info in Author's Note, Adoption, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, At least semi-adoption, Attempt at Humor, Attempts at Translating Languages, BUT ALSO HAPPY, Baby Fareeha, Bullying, Comfort, Crushes, Deadlock Gang, Death, Don't worry it was for good reasons, F/M, Family, First Kiss, Fluff, Football, Friendship, Humor, I mean hopefully humor, Messed with timeframes a little bit, Military, OC, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overly complicated but hopefully cute, Party, Protective Older Brothers, Reader-Insert, Sad, School, Slow Romance, Teen Pregnancy, Those two will happen at some point, Violence, Wartime Refugees, i think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 12:45:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14497275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Streak/pseuds/Scarlet_Streak
Summary: What if the timeframes for the Omnic crisis and the Australian Omnium explosion were moved?A twist on the normal High School AU. My description got too long, so it became the Author's Note. Check that before you read for more information!





	1. A/N: Before We Start The Fun...

Ok, ok. Hear me out. I always see Overwatch High School stuff and think "Wow. This high school has about 4 students and over 20 teachers." So, I thought I'd try a new approach:

This takes place during the Omnic crisis, and it's a dangerous world out there. Countries around the globe are struggling to fight off their Omnic attackers. This story takes place in an American town which has begun accepting refugee families from some of the countries hit hardest: Germany, Australia, the UK, Egypt, et cetera. Maybe even a few US cities closer to the coast, where the threat of Omnic attack is high. Our beloved Overwatch crew is struggling to deal with the fear of their time. Oh, and high school. Don't forget that.

Just to keep all of us sane, I'll make a list of characters and what grades they are in, which will be expanded or changed as I add more characters into the mix.

Seniors: Ana Amari, Reinhardt Wilhelm, Torbjörn Lindholm

Juniors: Jack Morrison, Gabriel Reyes, Hanzo Shimada

Sophomores: Angela Ziegler, Moira O'Deorian

Freshman: Jesse McCree, Genji Shimada, Jamison Fawkes, Mako Rutledge

Other: Fareeha Amari

This will be a collection of unrelated chapters occurring in no related order that will probably update pretty slowly. I have a very special way of including Fareeha, and that backstory will probably be important throughout the different chapters. As a caution, I'm going to start off expecting to use a few OCs or Reader characters for friends and siblings, just to make sure we have a nice, rounded cast of characters.

Oh, and I'll be doing my best for translations. I don't want to write in just English, but I want to try my best a making it natural.

If there's a scenario or idea you want to see, a better translation for a phrase I used, a suggestion for my writing, a question for me to try to answer, or you just feel like sending me something, shoot me a comment!

And, I mean, if you really like it, maybe a kudo?


	2. Lost In Translation

4 days. That is how long Ana Amari had been missing from school. Normally Reinhardt didn’t notice if one of his many classmates was out of class. People get sick, cut class, or go on vacation all the time. It wasn’t usually his concern. But with Ana it was different. He misses her. He misses her help and patience when he was having trouble with English. He misses talking to her at lunch. He— “Mr. Wilhelm, are you paying attention?”

He was still in English class. “Yes, Ms. Hargrove! I was just thinking.” The people around him wince at his volume, which causes Reinhardt’s expression to become slightly bashful as they return to the lesson.  
————  
“I’m just getting worried about her! What if she’s sick? What if she got hurt? Who would take care of Fareeha?” Reinhardt suddenly notices how bored his audience is. Jack has his head on the table. Gabe’s arms are crossed over his chest and he’s leaning back in his chair, the metal front legs lifting off the floor as he balances it precariously. It’s Gabe who finally speaks. “First of all, I think Ana’s aunt would have no trouble taking care of Fareeha. Second of all, if you’re so worried about her, why don’t you go check on her? You’re over there almost every day after practice anyway.” Reinhardt mentally smacks himself for not thinking of that first. Jack talks next. “Reyes has a point, Rein. Just go check on her yourself.”  
————  
Reinhardt walks up to the door, hand raised in a fist a few inches from the painted wood. Then he stops, turns around, and walks back to the sidewalk, looking up at the sky painted with the oranges, reds, and purples of sunset. He’s been here for twenty minutes trying to work up the courage to knock on Ana’s door. “Come on, Reinhardt, it’s no different from any other time you’ve come to visit her. You’re coming to check on her, it’s not like you’re here to ask her on a date or something.” Even the idea of that makes him more nervous than he was before. With a shake of his blond head, Reinhardt squares his shoulders and walks back up to the door. He raises his hand once more, but before he can knock, the door opens. “Sorry, my aunt wasn’t certain you’d be able to knock before the sun went down, and she wanted you to come in in time to have dinner with us.”

Ana is standing in the doorframe, a tired smile on her face and a fussy Fareeha situated on her hip. Reinhardt swallows nervously, his cheeks tinted pink in embarrassment. “Don’t just stand there, Reinhardt. Come in!” He ducks his head and steps through the door as Ana moves to the side to let him through. As he straightens up, the top of his head almost brushes against the ceiling. The house is filled with the smells of food as a voice comes from the kitchen. “Did you finally get that boy to come inside?”

“Naeim, eimatan!” Ana’s attention is drawn away by Fareeha, who has started to rub her eyes. “Katakut, stop rubbing your eyes. You know you aren’t supposed to touch them.”

“Itches!” Ana sighs in exasperation. “I know it itches, but you need to be patient.”

Her aunt’s voice again rings out in the house. “Ana, come help me with dinner.” Another sigh from Ana. “Reinhardt, could you hold Fareeha while I help with dinner?”

“Of course!” He holds out his arms eagerly, and Ana deposits the small bundle into them. She then walks into the kitchen. Reinhardt gives Fareeha a huge smile. “How are you, Liebechen?”

The little girl yawns, and he notices the pinkness in the whites of her eyes and the crust around them. She responds, “Mutaeabuh...”

Reinhardt racks his brain, desperately going through the limited Arabic Ana has tried to teach him to figure out what Fareeha just said to him. “One more time, Liebechen?”

Ana’s voice comes from the kitchen this time, “It means she’s tired.” Fareeha nods, reaching up to her face to rub her eyes again. Reinhardt catches her hand, holding it gently between two fingers as he sits down on the couch. “Your mother said you weren’t supposed to rub your eyes, Reeha.”

She pouts, eyes tearing up. Rein starts to panic slightly. “Please don’t cry, Liebling!” Ana’s aunt comes into the room. “Fareeha, don’t worry the poor boy. Dinner is ready, come and eat.”

Reinhardt gets up, still holding the little girl. He walks into the kitchen and sits at the little table, his knees bumping up against the bottom of it. Ana comes over and takes Fareeha, putting her in her high chair across from Reinhardt. Finally, Ana sits on Reinhardt’s left. Her aunt goes back to the stove and dishes out a few servings. She gives the biggest serving to Reinhardt, who nods in thanks. “What’s this one called?” Ana’s the one who responds as her aunt sits down. “Kushari. Try it, you’ll like it.”

He picks up a spoonful and hesitantly puts it in his mouth, enjoying the flavor of the rice, lentils, and spices. “It’s very good! Thank you, Ms. Amari.” They eat in silence for a few minutes, until Fareeha starts fussing again. Ana gets up, lifting Fareeha up into her arms. “Hush, Katakut.”

Reinhardt asks, “What’s wrong with her, Ana?”

“Pink eye. The doctor says it should clear up in a week or two, but she’s been so fussy that I feel bad leaving her with my aunt…” Reinhardt sees the sadness and exhaustion in her expression. “Liebe…”

His mouth snaps shut again, cheeks turning pink. Ana looks at him curiously. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing!” His response is so loud that it startles Fareeha, who begins to cry. It takes Ana a few minutes to calm her down again, and Reinhardt feels awful. “Sorry, Ana.”

“It’s alright, Rein. Just… inside voices.” He nods, noticing again the stress etched into her face. Ana looks down at the floor. “I should give Fareeha her medicine now. We’ll be back in a bit.” She leaves the room, and Reinhardt goes back to eating, eager to do anything to avoid looking Ana’s aunt in the eye.  
————  
“The end.” Ana closes the book as Fareeha yawns. “Now, time for bed.”

“But mama—” 

“No buts. Sick girls need their rest.” Fareeha looks over pleadingly at Reinhardt, who sits cross-legged on the floor, taking up most of the space in the room. He raises his hands in a shrug. “You need to listen to your mutti, Liebechen.”

“What does mutti mean?”

“It’s mother in German. Well, closer to mama. Mutter would be mother.”

“How do you say father?” Ana stiffens slightly, her eyes filling with pain. Reinhardt quickly responds, “Vater or vatti. You need to sleep now, Reeha.”

Fareeha must have noticed the change in her mother’s expression because she doesn’t argue this time. A hug for Reinhardt, a kiss for Ana, then the lights go out. She’s sound asleep in minutes. As soon as Ana leaves the room, her composure starts to break. Reinhardt puts a hand on her shoulder. “Would you like to take a walk?”

“What for?”

“Just to get away from this house for a little bit. You’ve been here with Fareeha for almost four days.” 

“But what if Fareeha—” Her aunt interrupts. “I can handle Fareeha. She’ll be more upset if she comes out and sees you crying.”

“Who says I’m going to cry?” No response besides a slight incline of the head and a wry expression. “Fine, I’m going.”  
————  
They walk in silence for a few blocks. Reinhardt’s afraid to say anything in case his words cause those tears in her eyes to overflow.

Finally, they reach the park, and Reinhardt guides Ana over to a two-part bench. He sits on one side, and she sits on the other. The bench looks comically small compared to Reinhardt, who takes up almost all of his half. There’s another long stretch of silence, broken intermittently by Ana’s attempts not to cry. After a few more minutes, Reinhardt decides that he should at least try to help. “Ana, I—” Ana makes the next part easier for him. She wraps her arms around his arm resting on the divider, hiding her face in his shoulder. He gently removes her arms, and she looks up at him in confusion, tears already rolling down her face. He moves over enough for there to be space for her on his side of the bench. “The bar didn’t look comfortable to lean against.”

Ana smiles in spite of the tears, and gets up, moving to the spot he cleared for her. He puts his arm around her and she leans into his side. “Tell me what’s wrong.” He already knows the answer, but she’s crying again and he needs to listen. “It’s so hard without him. Fareeha doesn’t even remember him.”

Him. Fareeha’s father who died 2 months after she was born, back when he and Ana still lived on the rougher part of town. It was the best two teenagers could afford. Ana moved in with her aunt after that day, and she still doesn’t like to talk about what happened. Ana continues. “I’m trying my best. I don’t know what to do with a baby…”

“You’re a wonderful mother. You go to school, take care of Fareeha, help your aunt around the house, and a million other things.”

“I just wish he was around to help. He was so good at knowing what to do.” She can’t find the words and turns her head to hide it in his shoulder again. “Ana, you know…” She looks up at him again, and his voice goes away. He clears his throat and starts again. “You know that, if you want, I’ll be there for you. Fareeha too.”

“Of course you will, Rein. Fareeha adores you.” Ana wipes the tears from her cheeks, a small smile on her face. “Well, the feeling is definitely mutual. She’s amazing, just like her mom.”

That gets a laugh out of Ana, who pushes his side gently. He responds by wrapping both arms around her in a bear hug. She slips her own arms around his torso. “Thank you, Reinhardt.”

“It’s nothing at all. Do you want to head back now?” Ana lets out a deep breath. “I suppose we have to.” She lets go of him, which is Reinhardt’s cue to do the same. They stand up, and he offers her his arm. Ana smiles as she takes it. “What a gentleman.”

“I learned from the best!”

“Balderich would be proud.” Reinhardt’s jubilant smile grows wistful. “I hope so.”  
————  
The walk home is much more enjoyable, with an easy conversation running between them. When they finally reach Ana’s door, Ana and Reinhardt stand there for a minute or two, not sure what else to say. Reinhardt tries first. “Good night.”

“Goodnight. Thank you for coming to check on me, Rein.”

“The pleasure was mine, Liebling. You know,” his face becomes hopeful with his next words, “I could come again tomorrow. Help with Fareeha for a little bit, then we might be able to go do something?” He’s almost certain that his face is red as a tomato. Ana looks down at the ground, and he immediately thinks he made a mistake. “Or not…”

“I’d love that.” She’s smiling. Reinhardt immediately relaxes, smiling back. “Then I’ll come directly after practice! Gute Nacht, Liebling.”

He opens his arms for another hug, which Ana happily obliges, standing up on her toes to get closer to his height. Before she pulls away, Reinhardt feels a brief pressure on his cheek. Ana steps towards the door, her face slightly pink. “Tusbah ala khair, Faris ‘Ahlamiun.”  
————  
As soon as he’s inside his apartment, Reinhardt flops down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. “She wants me to come over tomorrow. I get to go see Fareeha and Ana tomorrow.” He’s not quite sure why, but the thought of that makes him incredibly excited.


	3. Runaway

Gabriel Reyes takes his time on the walk home, already knowing he’s in for an earful when he finally gets there. It isn’t really his fault he’s missing curfew. He’ll stop to get in some extra work on studying or football, and before he knows it the clock is reading an hour later than he thought it was. As he keeps walking, an all too familiar noise reaches his ears; the sounds of childish, jeering voices and the crash of something heavy meeting metal ring out from an alley between two houses. “Come on, Gabe. Time to play neighborhood cop.” The real police don’t really come here anymore, besides to pick up the bodies, casualties of the enmity that exists in the stretch where human neighborhoods slowly give way to omnic neighborhoods. Every once in a while, some kids want to play hero and decide to beat up one of the Omnics. These little raids can go downhill really fast, so Gabe does his best to break it up when he can. He reaches the alley, only to be greeted by the exact sight he was expecting: an Omnic on the ground, and a gang of boys surrounding it. One of them is holding a baseball bat. That could be a problem. “Hey, chicos estupidos.”

The boys look up, and a few of them turn and run. Good, makes Gabe’s job easier. The boy with the bat draws himself up to his full height of about 5 foot nothing, a defiant look in his eyes. “You should keep walking before we lose our patience.” The unimpressive threat isn’t helped by his voice, still high and childish. Gabe raises an eyebrow. “Sure. Scram, kid. This isn’t worth it. I’m pretty sure that this guy, or girl, or whatever,” he gestures to the omnic, still curled up in a ball, “has some friends that you really don’t want joining this fight. So get lost before someone meaner than me shows up.” 

Another kid, a slightly older boy with unkempt brown hair and a red bandana around his neck, tugs the sleeve of the bat boy, who seems to be the leader, “This omnic ain’t worth more trouble than we already have, Noah. We should just get out of here.” The leader hesitates, then relents. “Fine. Let’s go.”

He and the rest of his group follow the same path their friends took earlier. Gabe shakes his head and pulls out his phone, dialing a familiar number. "911, what's your emergency?"

“I’ve got an omnic here who could use some help. Let me just get the address.”

“Gabriel? Is that you again?”

“Yeah. Someone has to check the border for fights, right? I’m almost to the street sign.”

“The ambulance is already heading to the neighborhood.”

“I’ll wait ‘til they get there.” Yesterday he did this for a man who ran afoul of an Omnic gang looking to prove a point. Gabe may never see the front line of the Omnic Crisis, but he’s seen enough of its casualties to last a lifetime.  
————  
Another night, another long walk. Gabriel waits for the inevitable sounds of trouble to ruin the quiet, but, instead of noise, he has the strangest feeling that someone is following him on his route. There’s an extra echo to his footsteps. After a few blocks, Gabe gives in to the suspicious feeling and decides to investigate. “Who’s there? I swear I don’t have anything on me worth taking, unless you’re really interested in last week’s math homework.” He catches a quick movement in the corner of his eye, and his instinct takes over as he grabs his suspected shadow. “Hey! Quita tus manos de mi!”

It’s the other kid from yesterday, the scrawny one with the brown hair and bandana. He tries to look brave, but there’s fear behind his eyes. Gabe doesn’t let go of the boy, but he loosens his grip a little. “Want to tell me why you were following me, chico?”

“Go to h--” Gabe interrupts him. “Language, chico. How old are you?”

“13 and a half.” The boy makes those extra six months sound like years. His voice has a certain twang to it. “Then what are you doing out here so late? You got parents to worry about you?”

“Left ‘em back in Santa Fe when I came here with the Deadlocks.” Gabriel’s heart sinks slightly. “The Deadlocks being the idiots I caught you with yesterday.”

“Yeah.” The boy is only two years younger than Gabriel, but he doesn’t look it. He’s definitely small for his age, almost just skin and bones. “Got a name, chico?”

“McCree.”

“Got a real name?” He gets indignant at that. “That is my real name! Jesse McCree!”

Gabriel almost snorts. “That can’t be a real name. Sounds like a cowboy from a bad Western movie.”

“Well, what’s yours?” 

“Gabriel Reyes. Now, Jesse,” his grip tightens again, startling Jesse, “I’m going to give you an option here. I can let you go, but tip a friend of mine off to a group of runaways causing trouble in my neighborhood, or--”

“I’m already liking the ‘or’.”

“Don’t interrupt me. Or,” Gabe takes a deep breath, weighing his next decision carefully, “you can come with me.” Jesse looks at him suspiciously. “Where exactly would we be going, Reyes?”  
“You’d just have to see.” Jesse frowns. “So, lemme get this straight. My options are jail, or going with you.”

“Yeah. It’s your choice, vaquero. I can promise that nothing bad should happen to you if you pick option 2.”

“Should?”

“We’re dealing with my mother when I’m out past curfew. Hopefully she’ll be too busy with you.” Gabe lets go of Jesse and starts walking, and from behind him comes the sound of running feet as Jesse hurries to catch up. “Can she cook?”

“The real problem is getting her to stop cooking. Why, you hungry?”

“Well, there ain’t really a lot to eat with the Deadlocks. Nobody wants to sell us anything.” Gabe shakes his head. “Then come on. Dinner’s already gotten cold twice by now.”  
————  
Gabriel’s prediction was right. The second McCree walked in the door, his mother was fussing over him. Extra food was brought out, a bed made up on the couch, and some of Gabe’s old clothes were put out for Jesse to wear tomorrow. His mother’s decision of “He can stay the night” turned into “He can stay the week” and, after a few months, “Good night, mijo.”

They got Jesse into school a few weeks after he started staying with him. He was in 8th grade, but had trouble with his classes. Gabe did his best to help him, but it was difficult to make up for the time that Jesse had lost with the Deadlocks. Finally, Gabe made him a deal. “You get a passing grade in all your classes, and I’ll see if we can get you on the football team for your Freshman year.” Turns out that was pretty good incentive for Jesse, who would almost always prefer playing some kind of sport to working on his homework. It wasn’t pretty, but Jesse managed to get his passing grades.  
————  
“Ok, remember how we practiced it.”

“I don’t know if I can do this. I do fine in the park, but what if I can’t do it in front of people?”

“Don’t give me that. You’re one of the best kickers I’ve ever seen.” It’s true. Gabe has never seen someone able to control the ball as well as Jesse. You tell him where you want the ball, and that’s where it will go. “You’ve got this in the bag, vaquero.” Gabe slaps Jesse on the back, unsure of how else to comfort his anxious friend. “Besides, our kicker graduated last year. You’re going for an open spot.”

“You’re right.” Jesse exhales, shaking himself slightly as if to shake off the nerves. “I can do this. You’ll wait for me, right?”

“Of course. I’m not letting you walk home late alone to face Mom. She’d kill both of us, you for being late, and me for letting you walk home by yourself after dark. You’re always good at talking her out of grounding me for life.” Jesse grins at that. “What can I say? I’ve got a certain charm.”

“Yeah, yeah, just get out there and kick.” Gabe gently cuffs him in the back of the head, and watches as that same scrawny kid from a year ago, now a few inches taller and of a healthier, broader build, runs onto the field, ready for the first day of tryouts. He smiles, and says to himself, “Good work, Gabe. You finally did something right.”


	4. Old Rules In New Places

Jamison fiddles with the bolts on his prosthetic arm, stopping every once in a while to add to his sketches for the new model he’s hoping to make. Better joints in the fingers would be nice. He’s tired of having to do all of his work with only his left hand. It isn’t even his dominant hand. Mako’s voice, distorted by his mask, startles Jamie out of his thoughts. “Hey, Rat. Pay attention.”

“Sorry, Hog. Y’know my mind tends to wander!” Jamie’s giant friend grunts. “Don’t want to teach you this later.”

“Fair enough!” Jamie doesn’t realize that the volume of his voice has been rising until he receives a glare from the math teacher, who obviously does not enjoy his class being interrupted by the Junkers. “Mr. Fawkes. Mr. Rutledge. I’d appreciate it if you two would keep your conversation for after class.”

“Oh, sorry, mate. We’ll be quiet from now on, honest.” That part of school reminds him of home. you keep your head down unless you’ve got the firepower to back yourself up.

Jamison learned that lesson the hard way.  
————  
Jamie bounds into the cafeteria, Mako following behind at a much slower pace. “C’mon, mate! If you don’t hurry up, all the good stuff will be gone!” The junkers scavenger instinct never really faded. In the Outback, it was first come, first served, and they had to fight for every scrap. It’s easier here, which is really the only good part about the move here. After the junkers collect their trays of food, they start to look for a table. That’s the worst part of lunch. Every chair is taken or being held for someone else. Jamison is sure that it’s only because no one wants to sit with the freak charity cases. Even the thought makes him bitter. “Why aren’t we allowed to just blow this place up?”

“It’s safer here than in the outback.” Jamie rolls his eyes. “Can we at least scare ‘em a bit?”

Mako’s only response is a grunt, and Jamie grins wickedly.  
————  
Jamison slams both hands down on the table, causing the other people sitting there to jump in their seats. “G’day, mates! My friend and I need a place to sit. I was hoping you might oblige?” The way he words it leaves no room for any answer other than yes. The tables current occupants nod mutely, moving their trays down to make room. Jamison bares his teeth in a feral excuse for a smile. “Thank you. C’mon, Mako, time to eat!”

Mako nods, gingerly removing his mask. He only has a short amount of time to finish his food before he needs to stop and put his mask back on. The sound of his rasping, labored breathing, usually dampened by the mask, causes Jamie to wince in sympathy, remembering Mako’s description of the pain in his lungs during their check-up when they first came to this blasted place. Both of the junkers tuck into their meal with little care for manners, focusing on getting as much food into themselves as possible. Another old habit from the Outback -- eat while you can. You’d never know where your next meal is coming from.

Jamison learned that one during the week after he was kicked out of Junkertown.  
————  
“Oh, I hate this kind of weather.” Jamie wrinkles his nose as he stares out past the window windows of the cafeteria, then down at his ratty t-shirt and shorts, the most comfortable clothes for him to wear with his prosthetics. Long-sleeved things can get caught in the joints. “I’m gonna get soaked, aren’t I?” Mako grunts in affirmation. “Should have listened to me this morning when I said bring a coat.”

“The only one I have is full of holes! Wouldn’t be any help against this.” Jamie gestures to the downpour. Suddenly, he has an idea. “They keep the lost and found somewhere around here, don’t they?”  
————  
“Jackpot!” Jamison crows happily as he lifts up a perfectly serviceable jacket from the pile of forgotten items. “It’s got a hood and everything! You found anything, Roady?” Mako nods, lifting up an umbrella. “C’mon, mate, that’s too small to do you any good!”

“Doesn’t matter. You might need it later. Nothing here would fit me anyway.”

“Oh. Alright, then!” Jamison keeps poking through the boxes. “Maybe there’s something else worth stealing in this heap.” Well, it’s not really stealing if the owner lost it in the first place. Jamison finds a bag and fills it with odds and ends. He could use some more parts for the newly designed arm. Anything could be useful, and, after all, in the Outback there’s only one rule of ownership: Finders Keepers.

He learned that the day he woke up and his first prosthetic arm had been stolen.  
————  
Jamison hates school. It’s long and boring, and their classmates stare too much. Not that he’d blame them. He and Mako haven’t looked quite right since the omnium explosion. Something about the eyes, probably. 

Mako’s breathing mask and Jamie’s prosthetics don’t help either, but it isn’t their fault that they need them! Mako’s lungs haven’t been the same since the explosion. The doctors explained it at some point, something about the air in the Outback after the explosion and Mako’s asthma. As for Jamie’s arm and leg… Well, if he’s being honest, he doesn’t remember what happened to them. The time around and before the explosion is a blank in his memory. Jamison’s mind was the thing that was affected worse by the radiation. Mako won’t tell him what happened either. He won’t even say if he knew what happened to begin with.

As he and Mako walk through the halls, he hears the whispers. Sometimes he can’t be sure if they’re not just in his head. Jamie knows his head isn’t right, even without the doctor’s diagnosis. It doesn’t make the words of those whispers any less hurtful. But it’s really no different from how it was back home. Jamison knows better than to trust anyone besides Mako.

It’s strange, though. That’s the one rule that he can’t quite remember when or how he learned it.


	5. Touchdown

Reinhardt looks over his shoulder into the crowd again. Still not there. His eyes return to the field, where the kickoff is about to happen. Jesse positions the ball on the tee and turns, taking 5 steps back then two to the right. He turns back towards the ball, and looks for the ready signal from his team. Reinhardt turns back to scan the bleachers. Still no Ana and Fareeha. The crowd cheers, which means Jesse’s kick was probably very impressive, but he doesn’t care. Suddenly he’s smacked in the back of the head. “Head in the game, Wilhelm.” He glares at his teammate. “My head is in the game, Morrison! I’m just looking for someone who promised to come watch.” 

Gabe, who stands next to Jack, snorts. “He’s looking for Amari.” Reinhardt gets defensive. “So what if I am? She said she was bringing Fareeha!”

Jack elbows Gabe, “Yeah, Reyes, he’s looking for baby Fareeha.” Before Reinhardt responds, something blue moving in the bleachers catches his attention. Ana is sitting down with Fareeha. She looks nervous, but she waves at him when she catches his eye. Reinhardt grins and waves back. “Offense, get out there!”

Reinhardt immediately runs onto the field, getting into his position on the offensive line.  
————  
The team gets into the timeout huddle, each of their faces covered with a grim expression. Gabe speaks first. “Look, we have 10 seconds and we’re down by 6 at the other end of the field. I’m not going to lie; this doesn’t look good.” Jack immediately interject, “But we can still pull this off. You have a play?”

Gabe grins wolfishly. “Of course I do, Morrison.” Gabriel outlines his plan quickly, and the team nods collectively. Reinhardt has the last word, punctuating it by slapping Gabe on the back. “Then what’s with all this standing around? There's glory to be won!”  
————  
The game ends 28 - 27. Jesse hammered the final nail into the other team’s coffin with a fantastic kick, guaranteeing the winning point. After the postgame breakdown with their coach, Gabe, Jack, and Reinhardt head to the bleachers. Reinhardt makes a beeline for Ana and Fareeha, wrapping them both in a hug. Ana laughs. “Reinhardt, you’re crushing us!” He lets go, looking down at them with a big smile. “I apologize, Liebling! I’m just glad you’re both here!”

Fareeha holds her arms out to him, and he happily takes her from Ana. “Hallo, Liebechen! Wie geht es dir?”

Fareeha thinks very hard for a second, then responds, “Gut, danke!” Reinhardt laughs, and hugs her tightly. “Wunderbar, Kliener!”

Ana smiles at them. “Kayfa ḥalak, Reinhardt?” It’s Reinhardt’s turn to wrack his brain for an answer, settling on, “Ana bikhair, sadiqi.”

She smiles. “Jayid jdaan. Do you want to go get dinner with us? I think Fareeha is getting hungry…” Fareeha chimes in with an affirmative, “Jayie!”

A voice comes from behind him. “Is this one yours, Wilhelm?” Reinhardt turns his head to look at his coach, then down at Fareeha, then back at his coach, face red. “No, sir! Balderich would have my hide if she was.”

His coach laughs. “Good answer. Go on, take them to dinner.”

“Yes, coach!”  
————  
Fareeha looks at her food contemplatively. “Reinhardt, how do you say puppy?”

“Hundchen! Hund would be dog! How do you say it in Arabic?” Ana answers. “Jru for puppy, Alkalb for dog.”

Fareeha nods, “What do I call you, Reinhardt?”

“Reinhardt, of course!”

“No, I know that! What do I call you in German?”

“What do you mean, Liebechen?”

“Well, I call Mama mama in Arabic, and mutti in German, and I call Auntie khala and tante. What are you?” Reinhardt struggles to find an answer. “I don’t know, Liebechen. You can just call me Reinhardt. Maybe onkel?”

Fareeha shakes her head. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“Then I’ll let you find one that does sound right, Liebechen.” She nods. “What does Liebechen mean?”

“It’s just a term of endearment, like when your mother calls you Katakut.”

“But Katakut has a meaning! Little bird!” Reinhardt tilts his head thoughtfully, a forkful of food forgotten in his hand. “Well, that would be Vogelchen in German. Do you want me to call you that from now on?”

Fareeha wrinkles her nose. “I like Liebechen better. What does the name you call Mama mean?” Reinhardt pauses, fork halfway to his mouth. “Freundin? It means friend.”

“No, the other one.”

“Sadiqi means friend as well.”

“No! The one like mine!”

“Liebling means sweetheart. I call both of you that.” Ana looks at him, surprise very visible on her face, but Fareeha still doesn’t look satisfied. “There’s another one that you only call her. What is it?”

Reinhardt feigns innocence as he goes back to eating his food.“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Liebechen.” She sticks her tongue out at him. “You do too. I’ll figure it out soon.”


	6. The Wolf And The Sparrow

Hanzo loves his brother Genji. Really, he does. He has ever since his mother told him that he was going to have a little brother.

He still laughs at what he said the day they brought him home: “You brought home the wrong one!” He didn’t understand that that screaming, wrinkly, pink bundle just needed some time before it would become his best friend. Of course, neither of them had much of a choice when it came to that. The heirs to the Shimada clan had to be protected, which meant Hanzo and Genji didn’t have many chances to make other friends. They were each other’s constant companions in that giant house, which felt like more of a prison than a home.

Hanzo remembers that childhood back in Japan, running through the halls, sneaking food from the kitchen, taking lessons from stuck-up teachers who Genji always chased off in a matter of days. He also remembers the rare days they were allowed to go to the arcade near the house, and how excited Genji was at the chance to show off. He especially remembers every time he had to protect his brother, from either other people or Genji himself.

He loves his baby brother more than anything. But, at times like this, when Hanzo is woken up at 2 am by the ringing of his cellphone, he doesn’t like him all that much. Hanzo groans, and answers the phone. A nervous voice starts to speak, “Hey, man. How—”

“Let’s just dispense with the pleasantries. Where is he, and what has he done this time?” He gets out of bed and starts to change into the closest clothes he can find, not even bothering to tie back his hair.  
————  
This is quickly becoming a familiar occurrence during Hanzo’s summer evenings: Genji passed out on someone’s couch with a black eye and bleeding nose. Genji’s friend who called Hanzo shifts awkwardly from foot to foot. “I can help you carry him out? It took two of us to get him over to the couch.” Hanzo elects to ignore this offer and lifts Genji up, his brother’s head resting on his chest, cradling Genji like a child, one arm supporting his head and shoulders, the other behind his knees, holding him up. “Or I’ll just hold the door for you. Good plan.” 

Hanzo carries his unconscious brother back through the house, Genji’s friend in toe. People whisper as Hanzo walks past; this is a highly unusual place to see him under normal circumstances. He only hopes that they don’t take too many pictures. Genji’s escapades are becoming increasingly difficult to cover up. As they reach the door, which Genji’s friend hastily holds open for Hanzo, he decides to take pity on the poor boy, who has looked and sounded extremely nervous ever since Hanzo picked up the phone. “Thank you for calling me about Genji.”

The boy blinks. “Oh, it was nothing. He had you on speed dial as an emergency contact, so I just assumed I was supposed to call you.” Hanzo nods, glad to see that that time he stole his brother’s phone is finally paying off. He walks to the car, using the hand attached to the arm under Genji’s knees to open the car door and gently placing his sleeping brother in the passenger seat, which he has already leaned back to make sure Genji can rest comfortably. After buckling the seat belt, Hanzo closes the door and walks around to the driver’s side.  
————  
The drive mostly passes in silence, until a stop light a few blocks off from the house. As Hanzo waits impatiently for the light to change, a groggy “Ani?” comes from the passenger side. Without looking, Hanzo replies. “Go back to sleep, otouto.”

“How did you know where I was?”

“Back to sleep. Your head looks like it got hit by a train, and I don’t even want to know what happened to the inside. You need to rest.”

“That explains why I’m seeing double.” Hanzo turns his head quickly, just in time to catch Genji’s grin. “Kidding. I do have a splitting headache.” Hanzo lets out a relieved breath, then glares at his little brother. “You had me worried, Manuke.”

“No need to call names!” Hanzo returns his gaze to the road as the light turns red. “One of these days when you pull a stunt like this, I’m not going to come get you.” They both know he’s lying, but it’s the thought that counts. 

Finally, they pull up to the house, and Hanzo gets out first, after telling Genji to unbuckle the seatbelt and stay put. He walks over to the passenger side and opens the door. His brother has his arms crossed grumpily over his chest. “I can get out of a car on my own.” Hanzo rolls his eyes. “I had to carry you to the car. Pardon me for not having faith in your ability to walk by yourself.”

Genji looks offended, but grudgingly accepts his older brother’s assistance. Hanzo helps Genji down onto the sidewalk and slips one arm under his little brother’s arm and around his back, pressing the palm of his hand into Genji’s side. Hanzo then grabbed Genji’s free arm which was now pressing into his side and pushed it over his own shoulders, gripping Genji’s hand to provide support, and the two of them begin to make the painstaking walk up to the house.   
————  
“Stop squirming, it’ll only make this take longer.” Hanzo tries to clean the blood off Genji’s face with a damp cloth as they sit in chairs facing each other. His younger brother pouts. “I can clean my own face.”

Hanzo snorts in amusement. “Really? Please enlighten me on how you’re able to clean your face without being able to see it.”

“I could do it if I went to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror!” Hanzo puts the cloth down. “Alright, go ahead.”

“What?” Hanzo shrugs. “You heard me. Go ahead, walk yourself to the bathroom and finish cleaning your face.”

Genji is stubborn as ever. With a defiant “I will!”, he stands up and immediately sways forward. Hanzo jumps up and catches him before he hits the floor. He’s about to make a sarcastic statement until he gets another look at his brother’s face. He’s pale, and Hanzo can’t tell if he’s turning slightly green or that’s just an illusion due to Genji’s ridiculous dyed green hair. The paleness accentuates the dark bruising around his forehead and nose, and Hanzo begins to feel truly worried. “Otouto, are you feeling alright?”

Genji shakes his head mutely, sagging forward even further, and Hanzo hurries to adjust his hold to support Genji’s weight.  
————  
“The areas in distress are mostly in your frontal lobe which, lucky for you means that the hit didn’t cause very much twisting up there.” Hanzo interrupts him impatiently. “What does that mean for his head?” 

The doctor sighs before continuing. “He’s concussed. Not too severely, but he should definitely avoid reading and screens for the next week or so, and,” the doctor turns to look at Genji. “Try not to get into any more fights, young man.” Hanzo nods. “Understood. Genji, you’re grounded.”

“What?” Genji is clearly upset with this decision, which doesn’t phase Hanzo in the slightest. “He said no screens or fights. If you’re grounded, that means no cell, no tv, no arcade, and no parties.”

Hanzo turns his attention back to the doctor. “Do you have anything for me to sign?” Genji butts in. “I’m not done talking about this, Hanzo!”

“But I am. Anyways, paperwork?” The doctor hesitates. “Well, I need a parent signature, and I assume you aren’t the parent?”

“Our father isn’t exactly available, but I can get a hold of him.” At least he hopes he can. This is shaping up to be a horrible start to his day.  
————  
It takes a few weeks, but Genji finally finishes recovering, much to Hanzo’s relief. One night, as he and Genji are eating dinner, Hanzo remarks, “I’m glad that school is starting next week.” Genji raises an eyebrow at him. “Why? It’s just school.”

“Exactly; It’s school. First few weeks of Freshman year. You’ll have less time to get into trouble, especially if you’re planning on going out for the football team.”

“Why’s that?” Hanzo grins. “Oh, you’ll see, otouto.”


End file.
